Blissful Encounter
by Svart Jasmin
Summary: Eric Northman is a 27 years-old famous actor whose façade is different than the person her really is; Lexie Jackson is a 37 years-old florist who has emotional issues of her own. One Saturday night, they meet at a bar. What happens the following morning? - One Shot, AH.


**A/N: I know I shouldn't be starting a new story, but this is a one-shot that I'm using as means to let off steam after the fuckery that was last night's episode of TB (S7, E5)! Hope you enjoy it!**

I stand at the balcony of his room, the soft morning breeze filling my lungs as I take in a deep breath, and the cigarette attached to my hand forming a sixth finger to my already shaking five.

How could I have done this?

I had always thought that one-night stands where easy to get _over_ just as they were easy to get _into_. This morning proved me wrong. It's never easy to get over a one-night stand.

At least, not when your one-night stand was with Eric Northman.

I feel a weak smile spread my lips as I replay the events of the night before in my still half-sleep mind, and I curse myself for putting both him and me in such an awkward situation, to say the least.

It has become a habit of mine since I got divorced a year ago to spend my Saturday nights at a different bar each week. He had come to the bar I had decided to spend my "alone Saturday time" at, as I'd rather call it, and him sitting on the stool beside me proved my "Saturday time" to be anything but alone.

It all began when he shot me a smile, one that literally, and I do mean literally, took my breath away. I can't remember every seeing a smile as beautiful as his; not even his own smile in the pictures that decorated both my computer and cellphone backgrounds was not that stunning for crying out loud!

But then again, meeting someone in person isn't like seeing them each and every single time you use one of your devices, is it?

I guess that fact is what caught me off guard when I realized that he was _actually_ setting next to me. He wasn't a face smiling at me from my screen anymore, he wasn't a pair of mesmerizing eyes burning into my eyes every time I looked at his picture any longer, and he sure as hell wasn't a motionless figure I could spill my heart out to without being judged anytime I felt bad or hurt.

He was right there beside me, sipping on his beer, and scanning the crowd with the same wonderful eyes I had spent nights and nights dreaming of.

I take a long drag from the stick of Marlboro between my fingers, and I can't seem to be able to control my mind from staying in the present. I let the smoke out of my lungs in a sigh, and for the first time in what seems like years, I felt tears burning at the back of my eyes.

He must've felt my eyes staring at him that night, because he looked at me with that famous toxic smile of his, and I remember praying that the Earth would open up and swallow me alive.

I guess God was busy answering the prayers of people far more religious than I am.

_Flashback – the night before_

"_Hi, I'm Eric." He says, his smile never leaving his handsome face. "But I would hazard a guess and say you already knew that, judging by the way you were, and still are staring at me." _

_He ended that with a raised eyebrow, and I couldn't help but smile, despite my urge to run and hide from the embarrassment that threatened to engulf me alive. I guess all the rumors about his sense of humor were true after all. _

"_I'm sorry." I say, shaking my head and looking away from him. "I couldn't help myself."_

_Really? That's the excuse I'm going to go with? Way to do, Lexie!_

"_It's OK." He says with a small nod before looking at me; that damned smile of his still plastered on his face. "Aren't you going to tell me your name?"_

"_Oh, I'm sorry." I say, moving my hand to shake his extending one. "I'm Lexie."_

"_Nice to meet you, Lexie." He says, and I notice him looking at my now empty glass. "Can I buy you a drink?" he asks and nods at the general direction of my drink, and I can only smile and nod, ignoring the red lights flashing in my brain. The sirens and warnings that won't seem to shut up. _

_It's almost physically impossible not to be attracted to him. His tall 6'4" frame towers over the bar, even when he's sitting! His blonde, long hair fell down to his shoulders, and a few strands fell across his face that I struggle not to tuck behind his ears. I can't even begin to describe his body. The only thing I can say is that he puts Adonis and Michelangelo's David to shame. _

_But all my feminine instincts are screaming at me to leave; to walk away, because this guy, star, actor, or whatever thing he is was after one thing that can only be describe in one three lettered word, and I'm not the type of woman who ever indulged herself into one night of pleasure. _

_Sex has always been too emotionally connected to me. I could never separate the act of sex from a relationship._

_And I don't think I'll be able to do that tonight. _

_Then I look at him, and he flashes his smile at me again, making all my sense of self-reservation disappear. _

_I'm really starting to hate that smile!_

_I feel my inhibitions leave me with every sip I take from my drink, and the conversation flows freely between us, as if we're long lost friends who haven't met in years. _

_We talk, and talk, and talk, for what seems like hours. _

_End flashback_

However, what I still have to seek an answer for is how one minute we were talking about him being an actor and me being a florist, and the next we were talking about our past relationships.

I turn around in my spot, replacing the ocean view from his balcony with that of his sleeping figure. He looks so peaceful that my heart is fighting a battle with my mind, debating on whether to wake him up or not.

The battle didn't have to last long as I watch him begin to stir before I see his blue eyes flutter open. I can identify the usual morning confusion craw to his eyes as he tries to clear the sleepy fog from his mind, then I saw pain replace that confusion when his arm reaches to the empty spot I had left by his side.

"I'm still here." I manage to say from where I stood, not actually knowing if I make that announcement just to give notice that he's not alone or to take away the pain from his eyes.

"I thought you left." He says as he sits up in bed and looks at me with a weak smile, one that's completely different from the one that dragged me here the night before.

"I didn't." I say with a small shrug before turning around to face the ocean again. The only thing that covering my body is the shirt he was wearing the night before, and even in the hot August morning, I feel shivers crawl up my spine.

"Why are you shivering?" I hear his voice ask, and I almost jump at how close he is, having come to stand behind me without me noticing, with the thin material of the bed sheets covering his nudity. "What are you afraid of?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you shivering?"

"I don't know."

"Lexie, look at me." He commands, his voice full of authority, as he touches the small part of skin on my shoulder that is not covered by his shirt, but I don't move.

"I should be going." I say a few seconds later, making a move to step away from him, but he grabs my arm and stops me.

"Don't."

"Eri-"

"Don't go." He says before he pulls me to him, making my back flush against his chest. "Not now at least."

"Why not?" I ask and close my eyes, trying to shut out the images of the two of us sharing the highest forms of intimacy from my brain.

"Because I need you here." He says; his voice barely a whisper, and his breath tickling my ear.

"Don't say something you don't mean, Eric." I say, but don't make any attempt to move away from him. "You needed me last night, just as much as I needed you. This morning is a totally different story."

"No, it's not." He says while his arms move to wrap around my waist before his fingers clasp on top of my lower abdomen. "I do mean it, Lexie. I need you."

"Why?"

"Because last night, you weren't talking to Eric Northman the actor, you were enjoying a night with Eric the human, the man inside."

"How do you know that?"

"You're different." He says as his fingers begin to slowly unbutton the shirt I'm wearing. "I've been around enough people to know the difference between dealing with me as an actor, and dealing with who I really am."

I make a small move to step away from him, but he has reached my breast with his _very_ skillful fingers, and I find myself leaning back against him.

"We shouldn't do this." I say to cover the moan that threatens to leave my mouth.

"Why not?" he asks as he begins to trail soft kisses against my neck. "I seem to recall you didn't have a problem with _this_ last night. In fact, I know you enjoyed every second of _this_."

"Last night was different." I say, and his fingers immediately freeze against my now hard nipple.

"Are you saying you regret last night?" he asks after a long moment of silence, and I let out a long sigh before I step away from him.

"No, I don't." I say and close my eyes to stop the tears from flowing. "All I know is that it shouldn't happen again."

I hear him take a deep breath and take a step further away from me, and I can't help but feel my heart break at that small gesture. Finally, when I open my eyes, I see him looking at me with an ice-cold glare, and I visibly shudder at its intensity.

"I'm not going to ask you why, because I don't beg." He says and rests his hand on the edge of the balcony. "If you want, you can leave me your phone number. Or you can take mine and call, _if_ you decide I'm more than a one-night stand."

If the situation was different, I would've laughed at what he said.

_He's_ the actor who has numerous one-night stands. _I'm_ just a nobody who should be lucky that I got to enjoy what I did the night before!

Why can't I just do that?

I watch him as he makes his way back into the bedroom. I see him discard the bed sheets before he reaches for his boxers, and I can't help but follow him and reach for my own clothes.

"You know it would be a bad idea if this goes further than last night." I say as I begin to get dressed, and I can feel his eyes on me, watching every move.

"Why?"

"You know why."

"No, I don't."

"You're still too young to get involved with someone like me."

"So, it's about the age difference?" he asks, and suddenly he's standing right in front of me. I feel his fingers on my chin as he forces me to look up at him, and I can't help but gasp when I see a hint of redness in them. "I don't care that you're 10 years older. I wouldn't care if you were 20 years older, Lexie. There's something different about you, and I really don't want to take a chance, then wonder years from now of what could've been."

"You don't know me."

"Give me a chance, and I will." He says, and for a second, I wish that he _was_ the asshole his reputation dubbed him to be.

I wonder how that reputation came to be!

"I can't, Eric." I say with a shake of my head. "You know that."

"Your husband was a cheating asshole, I get that, but not all men are like him." He says and runs his fingers softly through my hair.

"And not all girls fall at your feet just because you show interest." I say, and as soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret having spoken them. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"Yes, you did." He says and gives me a hurt smile. "You never say anything you don't mean, remember?"

I inwardly wince as he uses my own words from last night against me.

Damn those margaritas for letting me lose control and talk too much!

"I really should go." I say, but the look in his eyes freezes me in my spot, not allowing me to move an inch.

"One final kiss, then?" he asks, and I nod weakly, because I do want to feel his lips on mine one last time before I leave with nothing but the memories of what happened between us.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I see him lean his head towards mine, and I can't help but hold my breath in anticipation. When his lips finally touch mine, my eyes involuntarily close, and as if my arms have a brain of their own, they quickly wrap around his neck.

I don't know how long we stand there kissing, his tongue caressing mine and his hands holding the back of my neck, but when I run my fingers against that sensitive spot at the nape of his hair, his kisses become more intense; more passionate.

Before I even realize what's going on, Eric has me up in his arms, and carries me over to the bed. I pull away from the kiss to protest, but the feral look in his eye simply shuts me up, and I quickly latch my lips to his neck.

Why should I deny myself another few hours of pleasure and happiness? God knows I've suffered enough with my marriage, it's about time I enjoyed some time myself.

I had only managed to get on my underwear and bra when Eric stopped me a few minutes ago, and as he lowers me to the mattress, his fingers make quick work of the black lace covering my breasts.

I can't stop the moan that escapes my lips when his mouth latches to my breast, and I involuntarily arch my back when he flickers his tongue against my hard nipple. I feel his hand paying attention to my other breast, making my eyes roll into the back of my head in pleasure.

I don't know how Eric has become so skilled, but his talents are so remarkable that I feel myself getting closer to my release only by what he's doing to my breasts. He keeps switching his mouth between the right breast and the left, never once leaving either unattended. It's either his lips or his fingers tugging at my nipples, drawing them to taut ends.

I can't stop the moans leaving my throat as I begin to feel my inner walls clench. I can't believe what he's doing to me, but I'm too lost in sensation to question it twice, because when he gently bites on my left nipple, I scream out as waves of pleasure consume me, and I can't stop my body from shaking under his.

When I finally find the energy to open my eyes, I find him looking at me with a look that I can't decipher. I open my lips to talk, but his lips cover mine before a word leaves my mouth.

I feel his fingers trail down from my breast to the edge of my black silk panties, and without an ounce of control, I spread my legs for him, silently telling him where I want him to be.

Where I need him to be.

He doesn't remove the fabric off my body, he just moves it to the side and I'm suddenly filled with his fingers, making me scream out his name.

"That's right, baby." I hear him whisper against my ear as his fingers adeptly move inside me. "Scream my name."

That's exactly what I do when I feel him curl his fingers inside me to brush against that spot that only he was ever able to find, and I begin to see start behind my closed eyelids.

My eyes snap open when I don't feel his body pressed against mine anymore, only to find him pressing kisses along my belly down to where his fingers are buried, and before I can register his movement, my panties are ripped off my waist, and his lips are latched to that small bundle of nerve.

He kisses, and sucks, and licks, and it's not long before I feel the fireworks exploding across my body, making me scream out his name yet again.

When I finally come down from my second high, I see him crawl up my body and position himself at my entrance. He's already shed his boxers and put on a condom, and without either of us saying a word, he pushes himself inside, eliciting a deep moan from us both.

Our eyes lock as soon as he begins to move, and in that instant, I realize that what we are sharing now is not the same as what we shared the night before.

We are not merely having sex.

We are making love.

The intensity in his eyes make me close mine, and the softness and gentles of his caresses causes a tear to escape from behind my closed eyelids. I feel his lips at the corner of my eye, kissing away my tear, before he softly asks me to open my eyes, and I can't bring myself to deny him.

Our eyes lock again, and the amount of emotions we're exchanging simply by looking into each other's souls threatens to overwhelm me, so I lean forward and capture his lips with my own. Our kiss is slow, but never devoid of passion. We kiss for what seems like hours, his rhythm never faltering nor picking up, even as I begin to tremble beneath him, and my third orgasm claims me.

"You feel amazing." Eric whispers as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me in a tight embrace, and I can feel him nearing his own bliss. "You feel perfect."

I don't know what to say to that; I have _nothing_ to say to that, so I just hold him back, mirroring his tight grip with one of my own as he nuzzles his head against my neck. Seconds later, I feel his entire body stiffen, and he lets out a small groan that is muffled by my own neck as he finds his release.

For long seconds, he doesn't move. He just stays there, holding me, and I realize that for the first time in my life, I actually feel safe; protected. A small whimper leaves my lips when he finally moves to lie beside me, but his arms never let go of me, and he pulls me close to him that I can feel his heart beating against my head.

"Stay." He says, and although it sounds like a command, I know he's requesting in his own way. "Just a few more hours."

I tighten my hold around his waist and snuggle closer to him, not daring myself to speak. Soon, I feel his breath evening out, and I know that he's fallen asleep.

Once I'm sure he's deep in dream-land, I get out of the bed, put my clothes on, and quietly make my way out of the room, holding on to nothing but the memories of my blissful encounter with Eric Northman.


End file.
